Face It We're Family
by D1g1m0ncrazy
Summary: Hetalia AU. Arthur Kirkland was a widower. He found it increasingly difficult to care for his two sons, Alfred and Matthew, all by himself. And so, in desperation he calls upon his brother in law- all the way from France! Arthur begins to regret this choice, as the Frenchman's methods far differ from his own. No Pairings! Just family. Rated T for Safety.
1. And So He Arrived

It was late September, a time when the warmth of summer began to fade away into the cold days of autumn. However, far more than the seasons were changing. Perhaps the most change of all was taking place in an average Connecticut home.

Arthur Kirkland stood in front of his hallway mirror, combing at his blond hair nervously. He never seemed capable of getting it to lie down. The bushy-browed, green-eyed, Englishman normally wouldn't have fussed so much, had he not been expecting a visitor at any moment.

He paused a moment to glance at his watch, "Seven- fifteen in the morning." He clicked his tongue in disapproval and made his way over to the bottom of a flight of stairs that led to the second level.

"Boys!" he called up, "I know it's Saturday, but I told you to get up half an hour ago!"

"Mm. Mommy would have let us sleep in!" a young voice called back grumpily.

Arthur paused; his late wife had passed away three months prior as the result of a prolonged illness. He remembered the day before she'd died… she'd seemed like she was finally getting better. She had been so happy, so full of life… if only he'd known then that it was the last time he'd see her smile…

He shook his head to clear it, "I suppose I could always bring you breakfast in bed!" he replied.

At once a loud thump was heard from upstairs as two little boys hurried to get ready, rushing down the stairs with a shout of, "Please don't cooooooooooooook!"

Arthur laughed dryly as he regarded the pair of eight-year-olds, "Come now, is my cooking really all that bad?"

"Yes! It's yucky!" Alfred, the bolder of the two, declared.

Though both boys bore similar features, they were not completely identical. Besides their polar opposite personalities, they had some visible differences. Matthew, the quieter of the two, wore his blond hair slightly longer than his twin. Sweeping bangs sometimes hid his violet eyes that were in contrast to his brother's blue ones. However, perhaps the most obvious difference was the fact that Matthew was always found clutching a stuffed polar bear. He absolutely refused to go anywhere without it. And while Arthur was concerned that Matthew might be made fun of at school, he didn't have the heart to tell the boy to leave the bear at home. After all, his mother had made it for him.

"You need to work on your manners, young man." Arthur said plainly before turning to Matthew, "I suppose you don't like my cooking either, eh lad?"

"Not really, Daddy." He murmured softly.

Arthur smiled softly and patted the boy on the head, "Well then, I suppose it can't be helped. Perhaps when our guest arrives, he can whip us up a meal?"

The twins glanced at each other and then to their father, "Who's coming over, Daddy?" they asked in perfect unison.

Arthur sighed, "Ever since your mother passed, Daddy's been having some trouble taking care of you boys, so-"

Alfred cut him off, "Ooh! Did you hire a maid, daddy? Or a butler? Can you even afford a butler, Daddy?"

"No, Alfred, now calm down." Arthur found himself chuckling slightly.

"Is it someone from your side of the family in England?" Matthew asked softly.

"No, I'm afraid not, love."

The twins had never met his side of the family. Arthur dare not tell them that his side of the family hadn't so much as sent a single sympathy card. He supposed it was to be expected, they'd never approved of him marrying a Frenchwoman. And when they'd moved to America shortly thereafter, well, his side of the family had almost completely stopped corresponding with them altogether.

_Ding-Dong!_

The door bell rang, announcing the guest had arrived.

"I'll get it!" Alfred announced, speeding for the door.

Arthur chuckled amusedly as he and Matthew followed at a steady pace behind him.

Alfred threw the door open, studying the tall man on the doorstep. In either hand was a large suitcase. Alfred recognized all too well the shoulder length blond hair, stubble-covered chin, and sparkling blue eyes.

"Uncle Francis!" both boys exclaimed in a mix of surprise and excitement.

"On Hon Hon! And how are my two favorite nephews?" Francis asked as he stepped inside, setting the suitcases on the hardwood floor.

"We're good... 'Cept Daddy made us get up early on a Saturday." Alfred told him.

"How horrible! But I suppose it is a good thing after all, no? Or we may not have seen each other." Francis replied, patting the boy on the head.

"Did you come here all the way from France?" Matthew asked softly.

"Oui, mon petite. Tell me, how is Monsieur Kumajiro? Well I hope."

"He's good. I just wish he could remember my name." the timid boy said, holding up his stuffed polar bear.

"Perhaps all he needs is a gentle reminder, no?" the Frenchman humored him.

Arthur cleared his throat loudly, gaining the looks of the other three, "Anyway, Francis, you made good time. I've been trying to explain to the boys, but perhaps you'd rather tell them why you've come?"

"Oui." Francis smiled. Both twins now stared at him intently.

"As of this morning I am moving in with you. I will take care of the cooking, and help to take care of the both of you." He explained.

"Y-you mean Daddy's never going to cook again?" Matthew stammered.

"Not ever?" Alfred asked, just as astonished.

"Oui. Starting from this day I promise to cook every meal! This house shall have the finest French cuisine!" Francis declared.

Both boys hugged him tightly.

"We're saved!" Alfred cried, "Uncle Francis, you're my hero!"

Arthur turned faintly pink in annoyance, "Francis, the kitchen is down the hall to the left." He turned to his sons, "Come along now, boys. We'll take Uncle Francis's luggage up to the guest room."

"A-Actually Daddy… I kind of wanted to help Uncle Francis in the kitchen… Mr. Kumajiro wants to help too..." Matthew said softly.

"I have no problems with that if you don't, mon ami," Francis said to Arthur.

The Englishman gave in, "Alright then, make sure Uncle Francis doesn't set the kitchen ablaze, will you?" he said lightly.

"Only you are capable of _that_, Daddy." Alfred stated.

"And that will be enough out of you, young man." Arthur chided, "Now come along." He said, attempting to get Alfred to assist him in settling the luggage in the guest room.

Alfred watched his brother and uncle disappear down the hall with a sigh before following his father's lead up the stairs. "_Ah well_. _Maybe Uncle Francis brought me and Matty presents in his suitcases._" He thought to himself.

As they set the suitcases on the ever vacant guest bed, Alfred began to fiddle with the metal clasps of the one he'd been carrying. He nearly had it open, when his father's hands firmly grasped his own, "Alfred! What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Searching for presents," Alfred replied shamelessly, turning to his father.

Arthur shook his head and clicked his tongue disapprovingly, "We do not go through our guest's luggage, Alfred. In fact it's quite rude."

"Aww, but can't I just take a tiny peek inside?" Alfred pleaded.

"Certainly not," Arthur replied, steering him toward the door, "Off with you, why don't you see if Uncle Francis and Matthew need any help?"

"Aren't you coming?" Alfred asked, staring at his father with big blue eyes.

"I will in a moment. I must double check that everything is in order." Arthur said calmly, "Off with you." He repeated, with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

"Okay, okay. I'm going. I know when I'm not wanted." Alfred grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets as he trudged out the door.

In an instant, Arthur moved to follow his son, "Now just a minute, Alfred. You know very well that's not what I meant, don't you?"

Alfred turned to his father, a big grin plastered over his face," Gotcha!" he said brightly.

Arthur rubbed his temples," Yes. Quite. Well now…carry on."

Alfred giggled and scrambled down the stairs without another word. He was satisfied with the fact he'd managed to aggravate his father to a degree.

When he was certain Alfred was down the stairs, Arthur quickly went back into the guestroom and threw open both of Francis's suitcases. "Sorry old boy, nothing personal." He muttered as he searched through the Frenchman's belongings. There would be no alcohol or… adult books in his house if he could help it, not where a pair of curious eight year olds might get a hold of it at any rate. His search turned out to be less than paranoia as he discovered a bottle of fine French wine.

"_I'll just put this away somewhere safe for a special occasion._" Arthur thought to himself dryly.

Perhaps he could lock it away within the cabinet in his study. Yes, that seemed like a good plan. He set the bottle aside a moment as he refolded the disheveled clothes and placed them neatly inside their suitcases. He snapped the metal clasps shut and trudged out of the guest room, wine bottle in hand. All he had to do was sneak it into the study and then join his family for breakfast. It seemed simple enough.

That was, until he heard an eerily happy chortle from behind him, causing him to freeze. He'd been caught red-handed.

Arthur turned to face the Frenchman who was now regarding him with arms crossed. He smiled weakly, "I can explain."

"On Hon Hon! It is too early in the day to be drinking, mon ami! I know you have lost your wife, but you are not setting a good example for your children." Francis said smoothly.

Arthur's face flushed, "Oh shut it, Frog! You know very well this wine isn't mine."

"Oui. I know, mon ami. Which raises the obvious question: Why is it in your hand?" Francis inquired calmly.

"Don't you dare try to paint me the villain!" Arthur huffed.

Francis smirked oddly and put a finger to his lips, "Shh."

"Don't you hush me!" Arthur spat, "You have no business bringing _this_ into my household!" He hissed, lifting the bottle up for emphasis.

Francis simply lifted his palms in the air, smiling smugly, "Whatever you say, mon ami. However, you may want to reconsider how loudly you are talking… Your children will hear."

Arthur's face colored further, but he continued on in a hushed tone, "What made you think it would be okay to bring wine with you? For God's sake, you think alcohol is appropriate when you're coming to help look after _my_ children?!"

"I don't see the problem, mon ami. I won't be going home to France for some time… Is it so wrong that I wanted to bring something special from home?" the Frenchman asked.

"Don't give me that. You can get a hold of wine at almost any super market. What makes this bottle so special?" Arthur inquired in turn.

"It is French wine." Francis said simply.

"Well of course, Frog." Arthur huffed impatiently.

"American wine is not the same… it lacks the flavor, the passion." Francis said with a kiss of his finger tips.

"You're bloody mad." Arthur grumbled under his breath.

"I can see because you lack an elegant palate, you are incapable of understanding." Francis countered, "However, if it makes you feel any better, I will drink responsibly and only when I am not in the presence of your children."

Arthur wanted to argue that his palate was actually quite classy, but he was sure Alfred and Matthew were nearly finished with breakfast by now. He didn't want them seeing him and Francis arguing, and so he grudgingly agreed, "Fine, but you had better find a better hiding place than your suitcase… I had to stop Alfred from trying to go through your things in search of presents."

Francis nodded, "Fair enough."

Arthur held out the bottle of wine, "Well, here. Hurry up and hide the bloody thing before I change my mind." He huffed.

With a brief smile, Francis retrieved the bottle and hastened up the stairs to stash the bottle away.

Arthur watched him go with a hardened gaze. Things wouldn't be easy if Francis was always trying to bend the rules of his household like this. Alfred and Matthew had just lost their mother! They needed order, not confrontation. Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples, "_Oh well, I guess hoping everything to run perfectly was too much to expect… And it is just a small issue..._" He told himself.

Suddenly, he felt a small hand tugging at his sleeve.

A small voice followed the simple action," Daddy, are you okay?"

Arthur blinked his green eyes and found himself staring down at Matthew. Instantly, he smiled and patted the boy on the head, "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"Alfred and I heard you and Uncle Francis arguing." Matthew said timidly, violet eyes peering just over the top of his stuffed polar bear's head.

"O-Oh, you did?" Arthur asked weakly, smile faltering a second.

"You sounded angry." Matthew continued, "Did you make Uncle Francis leave?" he asked quietly.

"N-No. No! Of course not, Matthew. He just went upstairs to settle in a little." Arthur replied, feeling guilty to have obviously worried his son.

"Do you think he's getting our presents?!" Alfred asked hopefully as he walked up beside his brother.

"... Maybe, Alfred." Arthur said uncertainly, eyes still locked on Matthew's.

"Are you going to apologize to Uncle Francis? You might have hurt his feelings by yelling at him..." Matthew said timidly. It became apparent he didn't know what the argument had been about, much to Arthur's relief.

"Matthew, I..." Arthur began, but was cut off before he could finish the thought.

"On Hon Hon! What is this?" Francis said from the bottom of the staircase, drawing the attention of the other three.

Francis smiled and continued, "Matthew, you needn't worry about the talk your father and I had! He was simply expressing his fatherly concerns and I can respect that… It is what any good father would do when he is about to trust another person to care for his children."

"But you're our uncle!" Alfred cut in.

Francis waggled a finger, "That does not make a difference. He is your father, and he has every right to want the best for you."

Arthur couldn't believe his ears. Francis was defending him? He cleared his throat, "Yes, well, I did go a bit off the handle, old chap…I'm sorry."

"There, you see?" Francis said to Alfred and Matthew before turning to Arthur," No harm done."

The Frenchman paused briefly and then smirked, "Now tell me, who is ready for presents?"

"Oh! Oh! Me! I am! I want a present!" Alfred said jumping up and down excitedly.

"I- I want one too!" Matthew added softly.

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest as he watched. He had to hand it to Francis, he was good with the children… Though he still questioned the Frenchman's methods. While he had the rest of the weekend to adjust, Arthur was fairly certain that the real challenge would begin Monday morning, when he would be off to work, and the kids to school…

**Author's Note:**

**I'm baaaack! Okay, so long story short, I came up with this FanFic idea in February and started typing it then. However, I acquired writer's block. Not to mention, I was spending a lot of time with things in real life and simply didn't find the time to work on this. I still can't promise how fast updates will be, but if I somehow get a flood of good reviews that will definitely inspire me to get my rear in gear and crank out more chapters. For those who can't tell, this fic is AU (Alternate universe). It's based loosely off of Full House: Arthur being the widower, Francis being the uncle that moves in… Well, not everything is the same obviously as this isn't a full on parody. *laughs* Anyway, let me know what you think and I'll see you in Chapter 2.**


	2. Mourning and Memories

Silence filled the house, something that had become slightly foreign since Francis's arrival the day prior. Now it was Sunday afternoon. Alfred and Matthew had gone outside to play and Arthur wasn't quite sure what Francis was up to, but at least he was being quiet.

Still dressed in his Sunday best, Arthur decided now was a good a time as any to start on a particularly difficult project he'd been putting off. He made his way to the master bedroom and closed the door behind him with a sigh… he wasn't looking forward to this.

Arthur chose to start with the closet, pulling the doors open. Her elegant dresses still hung alongside his suits. Several shoes were lined up along a small bench-like structure against the back of the closet. While there were a couple pairs of his dress shoes, most were hers- ranging from lovely high heels to playful sandals.

"Oh Yvette." Arthur sighed softly, "Where should I even begin?"

He grasped the fabric of a particular dress, fingers tracing absently over the silky material. "_I remember the first time you wore this dress._" He thought silently.

He shook his head to clear it, "Yes, well, I haven't any use for these dresses. I should probably donate them…Still though…" he sighed, this was going to be even harder than he thought.

He rubbed his temples between his thumb and index finger. How could he go about this? Perhaps all he needed was to do it quickly, to put them out of sight and out of mind… Right?

He pulled six dresses from their hangers in quick succession, folding them over his arm. He didn't allow himself to really look at them, he couldn't. He grabbed for a seventh dress to add to the pile on his arm when he noticed some resistance… the dress must be caught on the hanger.

Instinctively, he looked the dress over for the problem and his hand began to tremble. _Why was it that dress_?

The rich purple dress seemed to flow elegantly into a slender waterfall. Sleeves were no more than an elegant ruffle, having exposed her lithe arms in all their glory.

He could almost see her now, golden hair dancing about as she spun elegantly before him….

"_Mon Amour! Oh, my sweet Arthur!_" Her voice chimed; a sound so beautiful and sweet to his ears.

"_We're just going out to dinner, love… have I really made you that happy?_" he had asked with a soft smile.

"_Oh, Arthur! You are too much sometimes!_" she laughed, "_Did you not notice this dress, I bought it for this special occasion._" She twirled around once more.

He'd blinked, "_A special occasion, Hm? Tell me, is it someone's birthday?_" he asked.

"_Not exactly, but you are not so far off!_" Her smile, it was so… radiant.

He'd racked his brain a moment before widening his eyes, "_What? You couldn't possibly mean- could you?_"

She nodded.

"_Really Yvette? A-Are you sure?_" hands trembling, he traced down the length of her arms, grasping her hands in his own, "_You are far too beautiful to be pregnant._" He found himself whispering.

She drew back slightly, "_What is that supposed to mean?_"

"_Just… wow. It feels like just yesterday we were wed..._" he breathed and then smiled at her, "_Our child! Oh you're right, Yvette! This is a very special occasion!_" he'd grabbed her by her waist and twirled her…

Arthur shook his head to clear it, feeling tears welling in his eyes but he forced them back. He missed her so very much. Glancing down at the dresses in his arm, he found he hadn't the will to part with them. Carefully, he hung them back up on their hangers.

A part of his mind told him he was a fool to do this, but the emotional, sentimental part of him reigned supreme.

"..Perhaps I should try getting rid of some of her shoes at the very least… I mean, who could be sentimental about old shoes?" he tried to convince himself flatly.

"_Bloody hell. How am I ever going to get through this? I need to pull myself together._" Arthur thought silently.

He bent down to retrieve her shoes from their 'bench.'

One pair… two pairs… three pairs… how many pairs of high heels did she have? He sighed; who was he trying to kid? He'd often teased her about needing to commission someone to build a closet solely for her footwear.

A fourth pair… a fifth pair… He wasn't even sure if she'd ever worn all of these.

Six pairs… seven, then eight…

KRR-DUM!

Arthur lost his grip on the shoes and they tumbled to the floor. "Bloody hell." He groaned as he stooped to recollect the footwear.

Why was he suddenly so inept?

It was while he was crouching and wondering this that something caught the corner of his eye… something on the floor of the closet.

He quickly identified the object, trying to tell himself it was off limits. He probably shouldn't look at it… Looking at it would only inhibit him further from getting anything accomplished. And yet, now that it had caught his eye, his heart ached so very badly for it.

"_She's only been gone three months_!" he tried to reason with himself, but immediately a response to that echoed in his mind, "_Three months is too long._"

Ignoring what he was sure was his better judgment; Arthur reached for the item- a thick photo album.

Carefully brushing the dust off the cover with his fingertips, Arthur sat on his bed and laid the volume across his lap.

He opened the photo album and let his eyes scan the first page.

There were old pictures of him and Yvette from back when they'd merely been courting.

One picture depicted her dancing with Francis… Arthur reasoned he'd have to get him a copy of that photograph later.

Some photos were of Yvette alone- laughing, smiling, and being carefree…

"You were so beautiful." Arthur murmured softly as he flicked through the album.

He felt his heart squeeze in his chest when his eyes met the photographs housed on the next page. How had some of their wedding photos found their way into this album? He was sure there was a whole volume dedicated to the occasion…

Nonetheless, there Yvette was- posed in her gorgeous wedding gown and looking very much like an angel.

Below that a photo of him, holding his new bride close… If only he could still hold her close to him…

Arthur felt tears wobbling in his eyes. Why was he putting himself through this?

"Y-Yvette. Yvette….Yvette…" he muttered to himself, getting a bit louder each time he repeated her name. "My darling, I miss you so much." His breathing hitched as he tried not to cry.

"_Think of the children… why, they'll probably be coming inside soon… you don't want them to find you like this._" He coached himself feebly.

He swore under his breath as he felt the tears slipping down his cheeks against his will. He hadn't cried much since his wife died; he had tried to be strong. After all, he had two sons to take care of; he didn't have time to grieve… But oh how deeply he was hurting, and all at once he let it out in a wave of emotion.

Wracking sobs consumed him as he found his thoughts asking the heavens countless times why she'd gotten sick, and why she had to go. It all seemed so complicated and so unfair. Why did so many couples get to live into their golden years together, while she was taken away from him and their two young sons? And more importantly, why did it have to hurt so much?

His poor, befuddled mind tried to come up with a rational reason to stop crying, but his aching heart implored him to release further.

The harsh sound of knocking at his door made Arthur jolt, "...W-Who's there?" he gasped, his voice still full of emotion.

"Mon ami, are you alright in there?" Francis's voice came with a hint of concern.

Hurriedly wiping tears from his eyes, Arthur tried to sound calmer.

"…Of course. W-why-" He choked on the word, his lungs still trying to pull in air after his hysterical crying, "Why do you ask?"

"Because," Francis paused as he opened the door, "You've been crying."

The Frenchman spotted the photo album sitting in Arthur's lap, "Looking through pictures of her?" he asked softly.

Arthur nodded slowly, "I meant to start going through her belongings… but I just can't bring myself to part with any of them quite yet… Too many memories, I suppose." He took in a shaky breath in an effort not to start crying again, "Then I found this old photo album…" he trailed off.

Francis was silent a long moment, and then sat down beside the Englishman, "May I see?"

"Yes." Arthur paused to clear his throat, "Yes, of course."

Francis carefully scooped the album up and turned back a couple pages, "Ah, I remember that day." He said with a sentimental tone as he pointed to the picture of Yvette and himself dancing.

"Ah yes. Remind me and we'll make a copy of that photograph later." Arthur said, glancing over.

"You know, I was the one who taught her to dance." Francis said with a slight smirk.

"Why am I not surprised?" Arthur replied.

"Yvette was so delicate, so beautiful…Like a rose, no?" Francis commented as he turned the page.

"No. If you're asking me, she was more of an angel." Arthur said softly.

Francis smiled gently and nodded," Oui. That she was."

Meanwhile, Alfred and Matthew had grown bored of playing outside. Reentering the seemingly silent house, both boys glanced at each other.

"Where are Uncle Francis and Daddy?" Matthew asked his twin softly.

"I dunno, Matty." Alfred replied with a shrug, "But I know how to find out!" he said, grinning broadly as he tore off up the stairs.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Matthew pleaded as he chased after his brother; stuffed polar bear nestled in his arms.

The sound of children's shoes racing up the stairwell snapped Arthur and Francis out of their state of reminiscence; causing them to glance in the direction of the bedroom door.

Alfred burst into the room first, followed closely by Matthew.

"Boys, what have I told you about knocking?" Arthur chided gently.

"Sorry Daddy. We came inside and didn't see anyone." Matthew said softly, nearly burying his mouth in Mr. Kumajiro's back.

"Well, that is my fault." Arthur mused, "I'm sorry."

"What are you and Uncle Francis doing anyway?" Alfred asked.

"We were looking through some old pictures of your mother." Arthur explained gently and patted the bed beside him, "Would you two like to see?"

At once, both boys scrambled up onto the bed. They got behind Arthur and Francis, kneeling so they could both see the album over their father and uncle's shoulders.

Francis passed Arthur half of the album so it sat between their laps as the boys drank in the details.

"Mommy looks different." Alfred pointed out.

"That's because she was younger. These first few photos are from back before she and I were married." Arthur explained to his sons.

"She's so pretty..." Matthew paused, "Even Mr. Kumajiro thinks so."

"You look really happy in these photos, Daddy." Alfred commented.

"Your mother made me happy." Arthur said simply.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" Alfred shouted after a moment," Who's that guy dancing with Mommy? He has a ponytail and looks sort of girly!"

Arthur chuckled slightly, perhaps the first time he'd laughed that day, "_That _would be your Uncle Francis."

"And I did _not_ look girly! I was simply well dressed… and had yet to decide that I looked better with stubble on my chin." Francis said.

"You're right, you _do_ look better with hair on your chin!" Alfred said brightly as Matthew giggled.

"Now boys, don't give him too hard a time of it." Arthur said, though it was obvious he was amused.

Alfred reached down and flipped the page of the photo album; he and Matthew once more became engrossed in the photographs of their mother.

They soon grew quiet and all at once hugged their father, "I miss Mommy." Alfred said quietly.

Arthur held his sons close, "I know; I know." He said softly.

"I wish I could see her again." Mathew added in barely more than a whisper.

It made Arthur's heart ache," Of course you do." He said, gently rubbing his sons' backs.

"But you know, your mother is watching over you from Heaven… right now." Francis told the boys.

"Really?" both boys asked.

"That's right." Arthur agreed, slowly an idea coming to him. "And though I know it's not the same, would both of you like to choose a picture of your mother from the photo album?"

"You mean it, Daddy?" Matthew asked.

Arthur nodded, "That way… whenever you miss your mother, you can pull out that photograph and see her smiling back at you." He said softly.

The twins hugged their father close and then proceeded to pick out their favorite pictures of their mother.

"I'm going to look at her every night before I go to sleep and every morning when I wake up!" Alfred declared.

"Me too." Matthew tacked on softly, clutching the photograph as protectively as his stuffed polar bear.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello, you've just read Chapter two. Yes, I know, this chapter isn't as cheery as the previous one. However, I felt it necessary to show that Arthur is grieving for his dead wife. And yes, I gave her the name Yvette. I browsed through several French names, but that one in particular jumped out at me. I hope you liked this chapter, and as always reviews not only make me happy, but inspire me to write further. I'll see you in chapter three.**


	3. A Not So Typical School Day

It was five- thirty on Monday morning, and Arthur was already prepared for the day. He'd dressed in a dapper grey business suit, having chosen to accent the ensemble with a burgundy tie. He held a thick portfolio under his arm as he made his way down the stairs to the main floor. It would be time to wake the kids in half an hour, but for now he let them sleep.

As he walked down the hall, a warm, buttery fragrance teased his nostrils. Arthur blinked as he made his way into the kitchen. Was Francis already up?

Sure enough, the Frenchman was standing by the oven. He was wearing a pale blue apron over his clothing while cooking something on the stove top.

"Bonjour, Arthur." Francis said calmly, turning to face the Englishman.

"I'm surprised to find you awake this early." Arthur said mildly.

Francis chuckled, "Yes, well I promised to fix every meal, if you recall."

"True, but the boys won't be up for another half an hour." Arthur explained.

"Ah, but what I am fixing required preparation." Francis replied simply, turning back to his work.

The Englishman glanced at the frying pan Francis was using, "Ham and eggs?"

"Non. This part was an afterthought. I know in America, you are accustomed to fuller breakfasts." Francis said mildly. "The special part is in the oven."

"Something involving butter?" Arthur ventured.

Francis smirked, "Why? Do you think it smells good?"

Arthur shrugged, "I could smell it from the hallway and it left me curious." He said simply.

"Ah." The Frenchman smiled knowingly as he continued to keep a watchful eye on the ham and eggs so he didn't burn them.

Approximately thirty-five minutes later, Alfred and Matthew had not only been woken up, but were dressed and seated at the dining room table with their father and uncle.

The buttery scent, as it turned out, was attributed to none other than Francis's homemade croissants. Which, as it so happened, he had been planning and working on in part since his arrival two days prior.

"Oooh! Croissants!" Alfred chirped excitedly, quickly taking a bite of the flaky, buttery pastry.

"Mommy used to make these." Matthew added softly as he nibbled at his own.

"I am not surprised, Matthew." Francis said lightly, "She and I used to make them all the time back in France."

"They're so good! The ham and eggs too, of course!" Alfred piped up, his mouth full.

"Alfred! What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?" Arthur scolded.

Alfred gulped down his food with some orange juice before replying. "Not to do it." He said.

"Correct. Please, keep that in mind." Arthur instructed. He took a bite of his own croissant, "I have to admit, this is rather good."

"On Hon Hon! I knew you'd like it, mon ami." Francis replied with a smirk.

"Yes, well, you had better be a good cook if you're going to be fixing the meals in this household." Arthur said mildly as he returned to his breakfast.

Alfred chomped at his food quickly whilst Matthew ate at a slower pace, enjoying each bite.

After finishing his food, Arthur glanced at his wristwatch. It was six- thirty now.

"Well, I'd best be off to work. Francis, the bus stop is right across the street. It will come by at seven o'clock, so be sure to have the boys out the door in time." Arthur said as he stood, pushing in his chair. He tucked the portfolio once more safely beneath his arm.

"Alright, I've got it. Though out of curiosity, what is it you do again?" Francis inquired.

"Daddy is a lonely officer!" Alfred piped up.

"That's 'loan' officer, Alfred." Arthur corrected as he planted a quick kiss on the boy's forehead. He moved over to Matthew to do the same before heading out the door, "Daddy loves you, boys. Have a good day at school!" he called back into the house as he left.

The twins finished eating shortly and rinsed their plates off, placing them in the sink.

"Alright. Anything else you boys need to get done before we head to the bus stop?" Francis asked.

"Well…Mr. Kumajiro kind of has to use the bathroom." Matthew said, fidgeting slightly.

Francis nodded, "Then it is best that he go now, no?"

"Yeah… be right back." Matthew said softly as he hurried into the bathroom with his stuffed polar bear.

"Anything else?" Francis inquired, turning to Alfred.

"Not really." The child said simply.

"Non? You do not have any backpacks to check over before heading out?" the Frenchman said in mild surprise.

"Ooh! I'll go get them!" Alfred said brightly and dashed off. He returned just as Matthew did.

"Uncle Francis said we should check over our bags." Alfred explained to his twin.

"Just to make sure you have everything." The Frenchman said with a simple shrug.

Matthew peered into his bag, "Well, it looks like everything is in here…"

"I'm good!" Alfred in turn proclaimed loudly.

"That being the case… to the bus stop!" Francis said lightly, leading the boys out the door.

The school bus came by at seven on-the-dot, just as Arthur had said.

Alfred and Matthew made their way down the small isle, bumping into students that were both older and younger than they were. Whoever had designed this had an odd sense of humor.

There was no possible way to find a seat without disturbing half of the other occupants of the vehicle. The older kids would always look like they wanted to kill you, and of course, the younger kids would whimper that they'd been 'hit.'

Finally finding an empty seat, the pair sat down, preparing for the imminently bumpy ride.

The vehicle would drive what seemed to be a few feet, stop to pick up more kids, and then repeat the whole process.

Eventually, the bus screeched to a halt, sending several of the smaller occupants lurching forward in their seats. As the doors hissed open, Alfred and Matthew stood and began to shuffle up the aisle and down the steps onto the concrete. All the elementary school students did likewise. They flooded the sidewalk, bumping shoulders with other children that had arrived on different buses.

The group of children made their way inside the building, splintering off towards their classrooms.

Matthew readjusted Mr. Kumajiro in his arms, "So, do you think we'll have a pop quiz today?"

"What?! Matty, don't even joke!" Alfred yelped as he walked alongside his twin.

"But I wasn't joking…" Matthew said softly.

They stopped in front of room 36-B, Mr. Carriedo's 2nd grade classroom.

Both twins shared a glance before proceeding inside. School had only started in August, but the twins felt they knew Mr. Carriedo pretty well already.

He had told them on their first day that he was a full blood Spaniard who had moved to the United States while studying at Yale University. He seemed awfully proud of the fact he'd been able to pass the US citizenship test, something Alfred and Matthew couldn't quite understand. He was a cheerful, energetic teacher who made them work hard, yet also awarded progress with sweets. All in all, he was any second grader's dream teacher.

"¡Buenos días! Alfred, Matthew, did you have good weekend?" Mr. Carriedo asked the twins.

Matthew studied his teacher. The man's shaggy brown hair, bright green eyes, and childish smile almost made him seem like a kid himself… This was something Matthew liked about his teacher. "Yes… Our uncle came to live with us." Matthew said softly.

"Yeah! And he can cook really, really well!" Alfred added brightly.

"My! How exciting!" Mr. Carriedo smiled.

The twins went over to their desks, retrieving what they'd need from their backpacks before placing the bags in their respective cubbyholes.

Other students did the same, having gotten into the routine over the past month. In fact, for most of them, this routine had simply carried over from the previous school year.

Moments later, Mr. Carriedo clapped his hands, "Alright class, everybody find your seats! It's time for class to start!"

He smiled as the students scrambled to their desks, "Bueno. Now we can start the day with something to get your minds working. That's right; it's time for a pop quiz!"

The class seemed to groan in unison.

Alfred turned to Matthew, "Why can't you use your powers for _good_, Matty?" he whined in a whisper.

Matthew simply shrugged.

"Oh come on, it's just a little addition and subtraction- hardly anything to groan over." Mr. Carriedo said in amusement as he began passing the quiz papers down each row.

A black-haired girl with a ponytail raised her hand, "Can I do this in pen?" she asked.

"No, I'd rather you didn't." Mr. Carriedo answered, "And that goes for everyone, please write in pencil! It will be easier to fix your mistakes if you do."

"Well _I_ don't think I'll make _any_ mistakes." Another student bragged.

"Good for you. You're using pencil." Mr. Carriedo said mildly.

When all the students had the sheet of paper before them, Mr. Carriedo nodded, "Alright, you may begin. Print your names in the top left corner, and the date in the top right. Today is September twenty-third of 2013. Good luck!" He sat behind his desk silently as the students worked.

After they had finished, Mr. Carriedo collected their papers and they moved right into the day's math lesson.

They spent some time on the subject before moving on to this week's spelling words.

Alfred nibbled the end of his pencil, it seemed like lunch time was taking forever to get there. Forget mathematics and spelling, he wanted to eat! And of course, more importantly, he was eager for recess.

"Come on; come on..." he muttered to himself as he stared at the clock as if he could will the time to pass faster.

Matthew glanced at his twin, but said nothing. He knew why Alfred seemed so anxious; he couldn't wait to get outside and play tag!

Eventually, the bell did sound, signifying that it was time for lunch.

"You all did bueno! Now let's all enjoy a good lunch so we can be ready to work hard when we get back, sí?" Mr. Carriedo said brightly, "Now everyone line up! Single file, you know the drill!"

The students lined up, it seemed no one had brought lunch from home today.

Matthew stood behind Alfred, clutching Mr. Kumajiro as protectively as ever.

When Mr. Carriedo was satisfied with the way his class had lined up, he began to lead them down the hallway to the cafeteria.

Lunch in itself was nothing special, consisting of traditional chicken nuggets, macaroni 'n cheese, an apple, and the seemingly putrid green beans that nobody dared to eat.

Finally, it was time for recess. Different teachers took turns throughout the week monitoring recess. Today, it so happened, was one of Mr. Carriedo's shifts.

The children raced out onto the playground. Some climbing up the jungle gym whilst others went for the swings.

Then there were others, like Alfred and Matthew, who opted to play a game of tag.

Alfred was 'it.'

Clutching Mr. Kumajiro tightly, Matthew raced away from his twin as fast as he could.

"I'm gonna get you, Matty!" Alfred called after his twin as he gave chase.

"Not if I can help it!" Matthew said as he ran.

Alfred laughed and picked up speed, quickly tapping his twin's shoulder, "Matty! You're it!" he declared as he turned tail and ran.

"Aw, okay." Matthew halted before pursuing Alfred.

"You'll never catch me, Matty!" Alfred teased, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

Matthew didn't reply in favor of saving his breath for the run. With his sights set on his twin, he didn't pay attention to a stone in his path. The rock caught the boy's sneaker and sent Matthew plummeting toward the grass.

Matthew had tripped, Mr. Kumajiro having flown from his hands and onto the ground a few feet away.

The boy quickly scrambled to his feet, but not before a pair of hands snatched up the stuffed polar bear.

Startled, Matthew gazed to the person who had grabbed Mr. Kumajiro.

The student in question was in a different teacher's second grade class, or at least Matthew didn't recognize him. The other boy smirked amusedly at Matthew as he glanced over the plush toy, "Still bringing teddy bears to school, huh?" Something about his tone felt so sharp and snotty, making Matthew instantly recoil.

Alfred had paused in his running to glance back at Matthew and the other boy.

"Please give Mr. Kumajiro back to me." Matthew said timidly.

"And you named it?! Ha! You're such a baby!" the other boy chortled, "Normal kids stop bringing stuffed animals to school after kindergarten. Don't you know that?"

"Hey! You leave Matty alone!" Alfred shouted, racing over to defend his twin.

"Maybe I don't wanna. 'Sides, maybe my baby sister would like this teddy bear." The boy replied, tone arrogant.

"Give Mr. Kumajiro back to Matty or else!" Alfred demanded.

"Or else what?" The other kid challenged.

"I'll _make_ you." Alfred replied, crossing his arms.

"Yeah right." The boy countered. He was yanking experimentally at Mr. Kumajiro's leg, almost as if testing how well the stitches would endure before ripping.

"That does it!" Alfred snapped and tackled the boy head on.

Matthew whimpered helplessly as the two boys began to fight. What was he to do? If he told the teacher, Alfred might get in trouble, but if he didn't… He shuddered. He did want Mr. Kumajiro back, but what if Alfred or the other kid got really hurt in the process?

"Hey!" the other boy shouted, punching at Alfred.

The fist fight began to progress, Mr. Kumajiro tossed aside in the commotion.

"You guys… please stop!" Matthew pleaded meekly, but he went unheard.

Punches were still being thrown. That was, until one voice resounded.

"¿Qué estás haciendo?" Mr. Carriedo's surprised voice froze both boys in their tracks, "There are a lot of other second graders to watch, but that doesn't mean I'm blind! I don't know which one of you started this fight, but this is unacceptable! You're both going to the principal's office!"

Alfred separated himself from the other boy. His left eye was red and swollen with the promise of black eye- one of many bruises he was sure that he'd accumulate.

The other boy was in a similar state. Though unlike Alfred, he had a bit of a bloody nose.

The two shared a glance before heading toward the school building.

"Not by yourselves!" Mr. Carriedo said firmly.

Matthew scooped up Mr. Kumajiro silently.

"Mr. Carriedo, do you want me to go get Ms. Yulo?" a female student asked from nearby.

"Sí. That way she can monitor you kids while I escort these boys to the Principal's office." Mr. Carriedo replied.

"Okay, you got it!" the girl said brightly as she darted into the school building.

"Gracias, Karen." Mr. Carriedo said as she went and then turned to the boys again, frowning as he waited for the other teacher to arrive and take his place.

Soon, Ms. Yulo had arrived and Mr. Carriedo proceeded to escort Alfred and the other second grade boy to the office.

Matthew clutched Mr. Kumajiro silently as he watched his brother go. He hoped Alfred wouldn't get in too much trouble over this.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello again, dear readers. Sorry it has been so long. One week I was sick, and then next thing I knew my internet connection was going wonky. While you'd think that wouldn't make a difference to my story writing, I like to research things I am unsure of. In the modern world, this traditionally means the use of the internet. Sometimes what I research is as trivial as cooking ingredients, other times it has to do with important facts that if gotten wrong make me seem ignorant. Obviously, I'm not perfect, but I do strive to be at least somewhat accurate. Anyhow, this chapter and the one to follow were not originally part of my plans I made before beginning this fic. However, after writing chapter two I felt implored to further explore and set up Alfred and Matthew's school life, Not sure exactly when the next chapter will be out (sorry!), but I will have it up eventually if you'll bear with me. Reviews make me happy and inspire me! See you in Chapter 4~**


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